Thomas Harlan - The shadow of Ararat

Alais was dancing in the moonlight, her long hair slowly swirling white around her pale shoulders. Her dress clung to her like a spiderweb, sheer and fine. Her long legs flashed in the silver light as she turned and spun. Gaius Julius leaned against the trunk of a tree, his face in shadow. She danced closer to him and his hand flashed out, capturing her arm. Krista turned away and climbed down off of the great engine. She stooped to enter the dim, hot chamber at the center of the device. Night would proceed. Maxian would return soon.

– |Galen watched his brother closely while he ate. Something had happened to the youth he had left behind in the capital. He had somehow become a man in the past months, a man with a haggard face and secrets hiding behind his eyes. His clothes, too, were strange. Dark rich robes and a mottled gray tunic underneath. The Prince finished the platter of food and pushed it away from him. The Emperor put down his own cup of wine and motioned for the servants to leave them.

"What troubles you, Maxian? Something important must have transpired since I left the city. Has something happened to you?"

Maxian nodded, his head heavy. He had just eaten more than he had in the last week and his body was seized with lethargy. For the first time in days, he thought of sleep. Something about the old familiar tent, the narrow, concerned face of his brother, the smell of candles and horses, made him feel safe and comfortable. He yawned, then blinked and rubbed his face fiercely.

"Do you remember the night that you, and I, and Aurelian were at the Summer House? You were telling me of your plan to invade Persia. I felt something that night, something I had felt only two times before. Brother, it frightened me. You know that I am a healer, that I have power in the unseen world."

Galen nodded, his attention fixed on his younger brother.

"Like a sorcerer, or a wizard," the Prince continued, "I can see the invisible powers. That night, in the little temple under the moon, I felt something powerful. Something inimical to men. It piqued my curiosity, so I started to ask some questions…"

Maxian continued for close to an hour, his even voice recounting nearly all that he had done and all that he had seen since that night. He left out only the details of his companions. When he finished, he sipped from a cup of wine the servants had left when they cleared away the dinner plates.

Galen stared at him, his face pale and drawn with horror. The Emperor looked away suddenly, and when he looked back, his eyes were angry. "Fool of a brother! How many times could you have died in this? Without anyone knowing? And your curse… if it is true, then my life is forfeit if I return to the West. I will die as surely as your friend the shipwright, or these weavers."

The Emperor sprang to his feet and began pacing, his face a mask of concentration.

"No," Maxian said, staring in surprise at his brother's agitation. "You, of all men, are safe in this thing. Such a construction needs a focus, some point from which all else springs. You are that focus, as the Emperor is the focus of the state. I know that you are safe. It may influence your thought and your intent. But so too does it protect you and shield you. Of all the men in the world who do not count mastery of the hidden world among their skills, you are the only one who can know this thing."

Galen turned, fists clenched in anger. "What would you have me do? Throw down the state I have sworn to defend? Wreck the Empire that, for all its faults, brings peace and protection to the people of half the world? I cannot do this thing. I will not do this!" His voice had risen, almost to a shout.

Maxian stood as well, his voice anxious. "But, brother! We can be free of it-and the Empire will still stand. All I need is a lever that is long enough and a fulcrum firm enough to dislodge it. I know where I can find the lever-I am sure of it. Help me do this thing, and a new world will come, one of freedom for all men. Our poor citizens can be strong again, Rome mighty again without the affliction of this curse."

Galen stared at Maxian's outstretched hand and stepped back. His mind whirled, filled with strange images and the words of his brother's trek across the Empire. It came to him that there were things missing, things left unsaid, passages only hinted at.

"How did you reach me so quickly?" The Emperor's voice was low, controlled. "By your accounting, you left Constantinople only days ago. What power brought you here?"

Maxian started to speak, but then closed his mouth, shaking his head.

"Tell me. Something must have carried you here-what is it? Where is it?"

"No," Maxian said, his voice clipped. "I see that you will not help me, so I will go and trouble you no more. There may be another way to break the curse. If there is, I will find it."

Galen's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I have heard," the Emperor said, sliding sideways around the table, "that the magi of Persia command powers that can carry them great distances swiftly. Do you have allies in this? Allies you have failed to mention?"

Maxian drew himself up and moved toward the door. "Friends have helped me. Friends who see clearly, unfettered by your fear. But I am my own master-you cannot command me, nor can anyone else."

Galen stopped him, a stiff hand on his chest. "Chrosoes King of Kings would laugh to see the Empire stripped of this protection."

Maxian stared back, his face taut with anger.

"I care not," he hissed, "for the King of Kings. Your war is an inconvenience to me, no more. Something to be taken into account. You forget, with your dream of Empire, that the common people pay for your glory in blood. I have had enough of it. It is the nature of man to learn and to grow, to seek out new things. If the Empire cannot stomach that, then I do not care for the Empire either. Stand aside. I will take my leave of you, brother."

Galen shook his head, whistling sharply. The Germans outside, already aroused by the sound of voices raised in anger, crowded in through the doorway.

"My brother," the Emperor said, "is weary and full of anger. Take him to my tent and keep him there, safe, until the morning. Sleep will restore his good humor."

Maxian did not speak, eyeing the broad chests and thickly muscled arms of the Germans. There were many of them, and he was tired and only one. He nodded, smiling weakly.

"It may be so," he said, and when they led him from the tent, he did not resist.

Galen, troubled beyond measure, leaned against the pole at the door of the tent, watching as the Germans took his brother away into the darkness. He scratched the back of his head, feeling the short stubbly hair, then turned away. There was still work to be done. He would sort things out with his little brother in the morning.

– |The Prince lay amid soft cushions and pillows on a fine bed. It was soft and yielding under him. Weariness washed over him in slow waves, dragging him closer to sleep. A lantern of cut-crystal faces gleamed at the top of the tent. Rich dark fabrics formed the walls and it was raised up, above the ground, on a platform of boards. It was warm and close. Maxian smiled wryly, remembering the disgusted faces of the two concubines who had been hustled out into the cold night by the Germans. He yawned.

Despite the comfort, sleep did not come easily to him. Dreams of fire and great wheels turning in dark places haunted him. In one fragmentary moment, he saw himself on a high place, surrounded by pillars of cold marble, hearing a great roaring sound, like the sea crashing against cliffs. He saw vast wings blotting out the sun and felt joy at the rush of hot wind in his hair. He saw Krista, her face pale and drawn in concentration, facing him, her arm out-thrust toward him. At last he slept, but sounds and images of places he had not seen and people he had not met troubled even that. A woman looked down on him, maddeningly familiar, with eyes as gray as a northern sea. The sky behind her was red with burning clouds.